


As Certain Dark Things

by nothingeverlost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:10:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shouldn't trust him.  She's not sure she does.  But there's something between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly a chaptered fic, so much as scenes and snippets from their relationship. AU, of course

She had to release him, of course. Moe French may be a fool, but he wasn’t stupid enough to press charges. There would be repercussions, of course, but Gold was certain he could get those cleared up. 

He had ways of dealing with the Mayor. Especially now, when he no longer had to pretend that he did not remember the girl she had been or the years of twisting her form to mold her from rotten clay.

"You had a good time with your boy?" It was nice to be out from behind the bars; they never did suit him very well. It had served his purpose, though; he had his cup back, Regina was wary, and he’d even gotten an ice cream cone.

He’d had worse days.

"You did hear me say you were free to go, right?" Emma feigned interest in her paperwork, but he noticed her eyes flickering over the photo of young Henry Mills on her desk. She was slipping into the role of mother more easily than she probably realized.

"Being given something you want, but only for a small time, it’s a terrible and wonderful thing, isn’t it?" Twenty-nine minutes with her boy, after only being allowed to watch him from afar. He would sell his soul for the chance, and yet he knew that it would break him.

"She’s his mother. She has every right to…"

"A mother looks out for their child’s best interest. From the way the boy looked over his shoulder as he left, I find it hard to believe that Henry’s interests sare being considered. He cares about you." She flinched, and he almost felt guilty. Almost.

"He’s a good kid." She tried to brush past him, but the office was small and it didn’t take much to catch her by the forearm and keep her still.

"He’s your son, Ms. Swan. If there is one thing in your life you will regret someday it’s not doing everything you can to spend time with him. Even when it hurts." Her skin was soft under his fingers; silk over steel. She was as strong as her mother, and as kind though she did not know that yet.

He tried to remember the last time he’d touched another person, other than a handshake. Even Moe French had been beaten by extension, not with his own hands.

"I gave him up. He’s not mine anymore." She tried to glare, but the pain in her eyes was too obvious. She stared at him only a moment before looking away.

"You say that, but do you believe it?" He released her, his hand moving from her arm to hover just above her heart, a whisper away from touching her. "Here?"

"I have to." For just a moment he thought she was going to lean into his touch, but then the moment was over and her defensive walls went back up, twice as thick as they’d been.

It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did.


	2. Fixing Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is exhausted. She’s so tired that not even sleep will fix things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was a deleted scene from season one where Emma comes to the jail to tell MM that the shovel wasn’t there. This takes place after that heartbreaking scene.

“Damn it, Gold, you’re her lawyer. Why haven’t you gotten her out of there yet? She’s innocent.” Emma is exhausted. She’s so tired that not even sleep will fix things. She can’t go home, not to the apartment that is Mary Margaret’s. Not when Mary Margaret can’t even bear to look at her.

_Please leave._

There’s two people in this town, this world, that are her family. Her son lives with a sociopath. Mary Margaret lives behind bars and it’s Emma’s fault.

“You have to fix this.” She’s not drunk, but lack of sleep and food mean that the single drink she had at Granny’s has just enough false courage in it that she thinks showing up at Gold’s house is a good idea. She can’t trust him. She shouldn’t even like him.

After Henry and Mary Margaret he’s the only one she has faith in. He’s the only one that can fix things.

“Would you like to come inside, Miss Swan? I was just about to start dinner.” It’s a bad idea, but she follows him inside.

“I’m not hungry.” But she is. She’s starving for love, for acceptance, for touch. For someone who understands the burden that weighs down her shoulders.

“We can discuss your m - Mary Margaret’s case.” There’s something there, when she looks at him. Knowledge that he holds close to his chest.

“She’s innocent,” Emma repeats. She doesn’t doubt that her best friend could kill if it meant saving a life. She’s seen the way Mary Margaret’s eyes blaze when she talks about Henry, or David, or herself. But jealousy is something different.

“I believe that.” He’s brushed her aside with platitudes before, but this is something different.

“You really do, don’t you?” She doesn’t know how it happens, how one minute they’re talking about Mary Margaret and the next she’s kissing him. And he’s kissing back, his lips demanding as he backs her into the wall.

She hasn’t felt this alive since she was forced to arrest Mary Margaret.

“Upstairs?” Gold asks the question, or maybe he just leads her manner of factly to the first step. She shakes her head and pulls her shirt off as she heads for the couch. A bed speaks too much of intimacy. He understands her, more than anyone she’s known. More than she understands herself, she thinks. He knows that she needs Henry. He knows how much losing Graham had hurt. He knows what Mary Margaret is to her.

She’s not sure she can take much more. She’s not sure she deserves it.

“Who are you?” she asks as his fingertips trace her ribs with more gentleness than she would have expected. The tweak of her nipple is not gentle, and that’s good too.

“Someone who is interested in helping you, dearie. One might even say a friend.” There’s a look in his eyes, that one she can’t understand. That one that makes her think they’ve known each other so much more than a few months. He pushes her panties to one side and moves a finger deep inside of her, then, and she forgets the look. Forgets everything. She’s layer after layer of tension, and he shakes them all, sending them crashing down. Breaking her and rebuilding her.

It’s not until everything stops spinning that she realizes that she’s only wearing a bra, but he’s still completely clothed. He’s brought her, by her count, to orgasm three times and has apparently denied himself completely. She reaches for his trousers but he shakes his head. “Perhaps next time.”


End file.
